


Second Chances

by The_Lady_Crane



Series: The Baris Chronicles (or, Soren Got Preggers) [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dimension Travel, Drabble Collection, Drama, Family, Family Feels, Humor, I'm Going to Hell, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Intersex, Look I have a compulsion to write this stuff just don't kill me, M/M, Makes more sense if you read the other stories but not necessary, Male Slash, Mild Angst, Mild Language, Post Mpreg, Priam is Ike and Soren's son, Reunions, Soren is intersex, Time Travel, Vignette, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24880609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lady_Crane/pseuds/The_Lady_Crane
Summary: Priam finds himself reuniting with his parents through the power of the Outrealm gates. It's a second chance for him... even if they haven't yet become his parents.---------A couple of drabbles focusing on the future of Priam, Ike, and Soren.
Relationships: Ike/Senerio | Soren, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: The Baris Chronicles (or, Soren Got Preggers) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626559
Comments: 15
Kudos: 57





	1. Second Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> I do not know why I write this stuff. Really, it's a compulsion. I've had these two stories sitting around for a bit, and have decided to post them. I will probably continue to write for and update "As Time Goes By", but this is a little side project that I just couldn't put down. 
> 
> Other writers have done this before, and I wanted to try my hand at it. I love the idea behind it, and I want to see what would happen if the Priam from my head-canon met the Ike and Soren from the same head-canon. This is obviously not at all canon-compliant; Priam doesn't even recognize Ike as his supposed ancestor. Personally, I think that Priam is descended from Mist, and that Ike left Ragnell behind when he left Tellius - he did it once before, at the end of Path of Radiance. BUT in my own little world, Ike and Soren had a baby and that baby was Priam, and now this is happening. Because why not?
> 
> If you've read the previous stories, then you know the drill. If not, then the story shouldn't be too hard to follow. I've slipped explanations in here and there to help fill you in on what's going on. It's fairly straightforward... at least, to me and my weird brain. I can definitely explain more in future chapters - like why Priam calls Soren "mom" instead of "papa" or "dad". 
> 
> Anyway, I have rambled enough. Onward!

_“Mom, why does Dad look so old?”_

_A shadow passes over his mother’s face. Slender hands pause at their task, the whetstone still over the scythe blade. Priam feels a shiver, a drop of cold dread, run down his back. He knows what the answer will be. He’s been thinking about it lately, as he’s noticed the differences in his parents’ appearance. But the silence compels him to speak. They’ve never discussed it with him, and he’s tired of not knowing for sure._

_The sage speaks slowly, deliberately. “He is a beorc – a human. He ages at a faster rate than we do.”_

_“I know,” Priam says, quick to dispel any notions that he is ignorant of this fact. “I mean, why does he look so old now? He’s not that old, but he looks it.” The thing he’s trying to say, without saying it outright, is that he’s begun to notice the age creeping up on his father. In some way, he hopes that perhaps he’s mistaken about it._

_“Priam…” Soren’s voice is low and steady, but the heaviness is there. “Fifty is past middle age for a beorc. They only live seventy years or so.”_

_For the first time, Priam truly grasps the reality of their situation. He had figured as much before, but to hear his father’s lifespan put in such frank terms…_

_He looks out the window, where Ike is chopping at the branches drooping over the wall into the yard. His hair is a bit more silver-toned than he remembers, though he’s seen it every day of his life so far. Had there always been that stiffness to his shoulders? Had his face always been so creased at the corners of his eyes, at the edges of his mouth? Priam looks back to his mother, to the smooth face and the emerald-hued black hair and the nimbleness of his fingers. The sage looks to be only twenty, though Priam knows that he’s at least as old as Ike._

_He realizes then what it means to be Branded._

_His mind is whirling with questions, but he doesn’t dare to ask them. Instead, he glances to the mirror hanging over the washbasin. He can see his own boyish face, already thirteen years old but just as round and babyish as it was at ten. He can see his mother’s slim figure sitting next to him at the table. Through the window, the steady motions of his father as he hacks at tree branches. His boots are just visible at the edge of the mirror._

_Priam wonders how many years it will be before it’s just him and his mother reflected in that mirror._

_“Where are you off to?” Soren asks as Priam stands and grabs his boots from beside the door._

_“I’m gonna go help Dad,” he says. He opens the door and is greeted by a gust of late winter air and his father turning to acknowledge him, the sunlight gleaming in his blue-silver hair._

>>><<<

“Priam!”

The swordsman looked up at the call, though his posture remained the same – sitting with his back against a tree, his arms and legs folded, his sword planted in the ground next to him. Chrom was coming up the hill to meet him. Priam closed his eyes again, breathing steadily and deeply, straining to hear the spirits that he knew were whirling around him always. Early autumn seemed to increase their activity, and he had been amusing himself by imagining what they might be up to.

Chrom managed to crest the hill without tripping, and the prince’s sigh of relief didn’t escape Priam’s sharp ears. He smirked, just slightly. “What do you want?”

Priam’s abrupt manner of speaking didn’t take Chrom off guard as easily these days. “We’ve new recruits,” he said. “I thought you might like to meet them.”

“You say that every time,” Priam sighed, cracking an eye open. “I’m not interested unless they’re strong. Did they send you here to invite me to a fight?”

“Er, no, but…”

“Then I don’t care.” Priam leaned back, breathing in the scents of the forest mingling with the scents of the nearby camp. “I told you, I’m—”

“Yes, you’re a lone wolf,” Chrom said with a hint of exasperation. “But I really do think you should meet them. I thought that you might be related to one of them somehow.”

At this, Priam opened his eyes and gave Chrom his full attention. “What makes you say that?”

“Your sword is the same,” Chrom said, nodding to Ragnell gleaming dully in the sunlight. “I thought perhaps it was a family design.”

The hair on Priam’s arms prickled. “Impossible…” he muttered, standing up and taking Ragnell in hand. He knew that Alondite was its twin, but that had been left in Tellius some time ago. He sheathed the sword at his back, and said, “Alright, take me to them.”

“You sure don’t hesitate to give orders…” Chrom mumbled as he turned and began walking carefully down the hill. Priam resisted the urge to push him.

“So, what are these warriors like?” Priam asked as they trekked back to camp. It wasn’t far, but Priam’s curiosity was piqued. He couldn’t hold back his questions.

“A swordsman and a mage,” Chrom said. “Both are pretty quiet, but they seem capable. The swordsman looks impressive, certainly.”

Priam’s blood began to itch. He wished to meet them, and to test his arm against that of this impressive swordsman. The leaves and dry grass crunched beneath their feet seemed to grow louder, the air around him crisper. “I’ve been thirsting for a good fight. Do you think he’ll want to engage me?”

“I’m sure he won’t mind,” said Chrom. “When I left, he was asking for sparring partners.”

As they approached the camp, Priam began to walk ahead of Chrom. At this hour, most people were bustling around trying to look busy as they waited for lunch to be served. The mess tent was giving off a wonderful savory smell, but Priam walked past it without a second glance. He could now hear the sounds of battle – swords were clashing already. His pace quickened, the spirits in the air nearly audible to him as he sensed them whirl around him on a sudden gust of wind. They were excited by something; Priam couldn’t wait to find out why.

They came to the other side of the supply tent, where a makeshift training yard had been set up. It seemed as if half the camp had turned up to watch the match that was currently underway. Priam pushed past the others easily, his height giving him a vantage point. He could see a red cloak whirling as the wearer stepped with purpose around the ring of onlookers. Lon’qu was engaged with him now. Priam could hear his battle cry even before he saw the man leap at the newcomer. The warrior sidestepped and hit him square in the back with his boot, sending him flying into the crowd.

Priam didn’t laugh with the others, but he was already reaching for Ragnell’s handle. Questions about the newcomers’ origins could wait – the scent of battle was in the air. The spirits buzzed with anticipation as he stepped into the ring. “I’ll be your next opponent!” he declared. The other man turned, and Priam’s heart leapt into his throat.

“Alright, then,” Ike said, taking up his stance once more.

_A creased, rough face, framed by gray hair, set as if in sleep. A pale hand smooths back the wild bangs, even as tears fall onto that still brow._

Time stopped for Priam, but not for his opponent. He could barely register anything as the flat of a sword connected with his breastplate.

_The sword, stuck through the back of a tombstone, glistens in the sunlight._

A murmur started up through the spectators as the lone wolf, the best swordsman in the army, was sent sprawling to the ground. He recovered, but far too late; Ike’s fist connected with the side of his face. He fell back again, rolling once, staring up at the blue sky.

That face appeared in his line of vision once more. A hand extended towards him. “I don’t think you were ready for that,” Ike said, helping Priam to his feet. The earth tilted beneath him. It was dizzying to be at eye level with him now. Last time, Priam still had growing to do. He stared, unable to look away, as his father – young, strong, standing tall and without any sign of weariness – stepped back and regarded him with confusion.

“Are you OK? You look like you’re gonna be sick.”

Somehow, Priam found his voice. “Yeah, ‘m fine. I… I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Me?” The hero’s brow quirked. “Do I know you?”

“Uh, no! No, you don’t,” Priam stepped back, jolting away from the steadying hand on his shoulder. “I—you look like—like someone I know. Knew.”

Ike’s eyes flicked to the sword lying on the ground. Before he could say anything, another person came up behind Ike. Priam felt the air leave his lungs as his mother looked at him with a disdainful expression. The spirits of the air were amassed around him; Priam could almost physically feel them, like a familiar hand on his, like a comforting scent wrapping around him. “Ike, they’re about to serve lunch,” said Soren. The tone of voice was the same as Priam remembered, the face younger but still unmistakable.

“Ah. Good.” With a curt nod, Ike turned away from Priam and followed Soren through the thinning crowd. Priam stared after them, unable to look away even as Chrom came up to him.

“Are you alright?” Chrom asked, genuinely concerned.

“That…” Priam was still staring, his mouth hanging open. “Did they come from the Outrealm gates?”

“Indeed. Do you recognize them?”

Priam didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say. (Once again, he hears his mother’s voice: _“If you don’t know what to say, don’t say anything at all; you don’t want people knowing how thick you can be.” Thanks_ , _Mom_ , he thinks, only partly sarcastic) He trailed after the group heading for the mess tent, still seeing glimpses of a red cape and black robe between the backs of the others.

“Are you alright, Priam?” Chrom catches him by the shoulder. “You do look rather ill.”

“No, I’m fine…” Priam mumbled, and shrugged off Chrom’s hand. “Don’t concern yourself over me.”

Chrom let him go, but he couldn’t shake his worry. It only worsened when Priam, seemingly blinded by whatever thoughts were swirling in his head, ran right into a tent pole.

>>><<<

“He’s staring at us again.”

Ike simply nodded to indicate that he’d heard Soren but kept at his meal like a starving man. When Soren edged closer to him, just slightly, Ike shifted to press their thighs together under the table. His mouth still full of buttered bread, he glanced up to see that the strange young warrior was indeed staring at them. Again.

“I bet he’s curious about Ragnell,” Ike said between mouthfuls. He hadn’t failed to notice the warrior’s sword on that first day. He had been curious about it, himself, but somehow there never seemed to be enough time to take the guy aside and ask him. For someone who always seemed to be around, he was very good at disappearing.

“I don’t think that’s it,” said Soren. “The way he looks at us… It puts me on edge.”

“He doesn’t have any reason to hate us,” said Ike.

“It’s not hatred, exactly.” Soren glanced over to the warrior – Priam, he’d heard – and leveled a glare at him. Priam’s face reddened and he looked away immediately. “It’s as if he knows us. Like he wants to speak with us.”

“Maybe he does,” Ike said with a shrug. “We should ask him.” Before Soren could stop him, Ike was shouting across the mess tent: “Hey, you!”

Priam looked up at the call. “Me?”

“Yeah. Come on over here.”

Soren tried to hide his apprehension as the warrior hesitantly got up and shuffled over to them. His posture was almost fearful, like a child coming forward after getting caught at mischief-making. He stood apart from them, until Ike motioned to the empty bench across the table. While he sat, his eyes never left Ike’s face. Soren unconsciously pressed closer to Ike.

“So,” Ike said, still chewing.

Priam said nothing, but he looked as if he’d been slapped. There was a moment of tense silence, until Ike finally took the initiative. “So. I never got to ask your name.”

“Priam.” The answer came with a wave of nervousness; he never thought he would have to introduce himself to his own parents.

“I’m Ike,” Ike said unnecessarily. “And this is Soren. We’re from a place called Tellius. You?”

“Uh, Baris,” Priam said. He thought that at this stage in their lives, the two would have no idea what he was talking about; but both of them looked at him with some astonishment.

“Huh. That’s the place we were traveling to, when we came across the gate,” Ike said. “You must be from our world, then. Maybe from a different timeline.” His eyes flicked once more to the sword handle jutting up from behind Priam’s back.

“Your sword is impressive,” Soren said suddenly, as if he were picking up on Ike’s thoughts, and Priam nearly jumped in his seat. Those red eyes were boring right into him, the way they always did when there was an unexplained broken window on the house.

“Th- thank you,” Priam said, feeling the need to flee before they found out who he was, but compelled to stay. He had so many questions…

“Does it have a name?”

“R- uh, Regnalt.” Somehow, he had hoped that Soren wouldn’t know him so well in this world. After all, Soren technically wasn’t his mother. But it seemed as if the sage’s perceptiveness had little to do with their relationship. Priam knew immediately that Soren didn’t buy his lie.

“I see.” That tone (Priam shuddered) was exactly the same as he remembered. It was chilling. He had to remind himself not to look Soren in the eye, lest he be intimidated into spilling all of his secrets right away. Lucina had told him before just how dangerous it could be to mess with time; what if he said or did something to cause himself to not exist?

That tangent was swiftly interrupted when Ike said, “Do you know us from somewhere? In your time?”

“No!” His answer was all too quick. Again, there was that tightening of Soren’s lips. Even Ike seemed skeptical. “No, but… You remind me of someone I once knew. That’s all.”

“That someone wouldn’t happen to have given you that sword, would they?” Soren said.

“N- not… exactly. No.” Priam could feel his palms growing sweaty. “Well, thanks for the talk. I really need to get going.”

He beat a hasty retreat, and Soren’s gaze followed him all the way out of the mess tent. “I don’t know what he’s hiding, but it’s obvious that he knows us,” Soren said.

“Maybe he killed me and took Ragnell,” Ike shrugged. “Wish he hadn’t renamed it, though.”

“Ike, don’t talk like that!”

“I’m only joking,” Ike said. “Whatever it is, he must have his reasons for staying quiet.”

“I don’t like it. If he knows something about us, and we know nothing about him, he has us at a disadvantage.”

“You’re talking like he’s our enemy.”

“He may be.” Soren chewed thoughtfully on his thumbnail. “I’ve heard about him. Apparently, he isn’t even officially a part of this army; he only joined as an outlier. They call him a lone wolf.”

“He seems alright to me.”

Despite his apprehension, that settled it for Soren. If Ike trusted the strange young man, then Soren would trust Ike. That didn’t quell his desire to know more about him, though. He glared at the open tent flap as Ike stacked their dishes. There was no way he was going to just let this go.

>>><<<

“He’s your father, isn’t he?”

Priam looked up in alarm, his heart leaping into his throat. How had Soren followed him out of camp without being noticed? He didn’t recall that his mother was particularly stealthy, but perhaps he’d been mistaken.

“What do you mean?” He couldn’t very well escape now. He was sitting against the tree, and Soren was standing right in front of him. That red gaze was intense.

“Ike. He’s your father. Or your grandfather.”

Priam fought back the urge to shudder. “What makes you think that?” Keep it cool, he thought. Don’t overreact.

Soren looked away into the fading sunset. “The pieces fit. You are from Baris, a continent to which we were traveling. You possess Ragnell. You seem to know who he is. And you even look like him.” A sigh, soft and bitter. “Just tell me one thing – who is your mother?”

At that, Priam had no choice. He fled. Before Soren could stop him, he rolled to his feet and bolted directly through the woods. Soren didn’t call after him, there were no sounds as if he was in pursuit, but still Priam ran.

He had underestimated how sharp his mother was. Priam knew that he had no hope of deceiving the sage, and so there was only one course of action to take: He would have to avoid the man entirely. That was doable. That was the plan.

>>><<<

It all went to shit during the very first battle.

Ike and Soren had been told about the Risen, and they got a chance to see them up close merely a week after joining Chrom’s army.

“This is too much like the tower,” Ike said grimly as Ragnell sliced through an undead soldier.

“I know,” Soren murmured between casts. He stood close to Ike, a central point around which Ike danced, his blade flashing. As Ike moved, Soren followed, always facing the other way, felling enemies with deadly spells, weakening others for Ike to finish off.

They were in perfect sync, and Priam was captivated.

He had never seen his parents in battle before. Once he had witnessed them take care of some highwaymen who had ambushed them on the road, but that had been a quick affair. This was artwork in motion, every step precise and easy. Their stories of the wars didn’t do it justice. Their synergy was awe-inspiring, and Priam couldn’t look away.

Until a blast of wind shot past his head.

“Idiot!” Soren shouted at him, and Priam spun away from the duo just in time to see a Risen burst into a cloud of dust on the ground. He sprang into action immediately, shifting gears to focus on the battle, but Soren had been distracted just long enough to be tackled by an enemy. Ike was engaged with an axe-wielder; only Priam saw the sage fall.

His blood ran cold.

“ **Mother**!”

His shout seemed to get Ike’s attention, but Priam was already there, slicing through the Risen with double his usual strength. He shoved the decomposing corpse away and fell to his knees over Soren, shielding him with his body as he assessed his face.

He was conscious.

And he was staring at Priam wide-eyed.

“Watch out!” Ike took down another soldier who was advancing on the two, but Priam and Soren were locked in the moment, unable to react. There was an instant – a flash of recognition – where Priam saw Soren connect the dots. Where Soren saw something of himself in the shape of Priam’s eyes, in the paleness of his skin, in the dark hair. The strategist was turning Priam’s panicked shout over in his mind.

The sounds of battle seemed to come back all at once, like someone had muffled the scene under a blanket and was now pulling it off. Soren’s gaze hardened, and Priam reacted in kind, helping him to stand and turning just in time to catch an approaching spearman. The moment would have to wait for now.

>>><<<

They were cleared by the healers long before Soren and Robin emerged from the tactician’s tent. Priam sat on a pile of rolled tents, elbows on his knees and his head bowed. He hardly heard Ike approaching, but the tent rolls sagged under the former general’s weight.

“Mind telling me what that was about?”

Priam glanced over at Ike, who was looking at him steadily – not with hostility, but with open curiosity. Still, Priam thought that he could delay the inevitable. “What do you mean?”

“You called Soren your mother.”

So, he had heard that. Priam slouched forward, his face hidden by long, unkempt bangs. “I guess you wouldn’t believe me if I told you it was a slip-up.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Damn.” Priam’s shoulders shook with a chuckle. “I guess the jig’s up, then. Lucina said it was bound to happen eventually. Ah, well…”

Ike didn’t press for an explanation, but he sat back with his arms crossed, just as he had when Priam was a boy. ( _“I didn’t mean to,”_ he can hear himself say as he looks up at his father’s stern but patient face.) He cleared his throat and looked down at the sparse grass beneath his feet. “You and Soren are my parents.”

There wasn’t an exclamation of surprise, or a demand for elaboration. Ike simply nodded. Priam cleared his throat again and continued. “I guess being Branded made him… different. You never really explained much about how it happened, but you two were traveling, and then one day, well…” he laughed again. “There I was.”

The tent across from them opened, and Robin and Soren emerged, followed by Chrom. Robin went off with Chrom right away, but Soren stood where he was, his gaze boring into Priam. Priam stood, his blood itching in his veins. Ike remained seated, but Priam could feel his stare, as well.

Soren came forward. Priam straightened up just a bit, sucking in a breath that he hadn’t been aware of holding back. The sage looked so small now. Priam had outpaced him in height at a fairly early age, but the mother he had left behind in Baris was much taller than the one here. This Soren barely came up to his chest. He felt ridiculous staring down at the man who had raised him into adulthood.

There was that calculating look that Priam knew so well; and, behind it, a tenderness that was only recognizable because of his familiarity with it. A thin, pale hand rose to rest on Priam’s face, cool fingertips ghosting over the stubble on his chin, the raised cheekbones, the thin, straight bridge of his nose. Exploring the traits that he had inherited from Ike, Soren’s eyes were full of wonder and a deep sentimentality that his blank expression couldn’t quite hide.

His headband was lifted aside, just a bit, and Soren’s eyes widened just a fraction. He could feel the brand tingling on his forehead, mirroring his mother’s exactly. Ike shifted forward to get a better look. Priam couldn’t see his expression, but there at last was a grunt of shock, like Priam’s declaration had been made real by that red sigil.

Such emotion in Soren’s face. Priam felt his eyes stinging as he observed his mother’s cool expression clashing with the warmth in his eyes. They looked at each other, and Priam truly felt like a child again, reaching for his mother’s comfort. Soren’s hand slid down his face again, to the side.

And his cold fingers hooked in the curve of Priam’s ear.

“OW!”

“When did you plan on telling us?!” Soren demanded as Priam fell to his knees, his head leaning toward where Soren now had his ear in a death grip. “How long were you going to keep this a secret? Did you enjoy laughing at us?!”

“No! No, I wasn’t laughing! Owowow, let go!”

“Soren.” A quiet word from Ike, and Soren backed off, like a trained attack dog. Priam fell onto his rear, rubbing his ear gently.

“Ow… Yeah, that hasn’t changed one bit.”

Soren stepped back and observed Priam with crossed arms and shrewd expression. “I don’t know what to say,” he finally admitted. “I can’t doubt you. Considering the evidence, I can’t doubt that you are… our son. But I don’t really know what to say.”

Ike looked back and forth between them. Priam felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Well,” said Ike, with a small smirk, “how about, ‘It’s a boy’?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (hides) Don't kill me!


	2. Ride of the Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things never change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, these don't really go in any particular order. This wouldn't happen immediately after the last chapter. But I finished this one first, and I want to post it, anyway. This is a drabble collection, not a linear story.

_He wakes soundlessly. The world becomes solid around him, and he breathes, sucks in greedy bursts of air as if his lungs were starved of it. He doesn’t realize that his face is wet until he reaches up to wipe his bangs out of his eyes. He examines the glistening tears on his fingers, pale as crystal in the moonlight._

_At first, it’s only the ragged sound of his own breaths in his ears. As he becomes more aware, other sounds filter through the fog. A loud snore from somewhere in the darkness alerts him to the soft breeze rustling the trees outside. The fire is burning low; he can hear it hissing now and then as it dies. An owl mournfully hoots nearby._

_On any other night, Priam would be delighted to hear the owl’s call. He would get up and go to the window, see if he could catch a glimpse of it as it took to the sky in search of food. But tonight, the hooting only fills him with fear and an indescribable loneliness. The sound rings hollowly in his head, and he whimpers, curling his little fists around the blanket._

_Someone shifts, and then a slim shadow appears at his side. The very faint glow of red eyes puts the boy at ease. “Are you feeling sick?” His mother’s voice is soft and low and instantly comforting. Priam relaxes into the pillow, shaking his head. “A nightmare?” He nods, and sniffs, blinking away the tears. He doesn’t want to be seen in this moment of weakness._

_There is only a slight hesitation as Soren leans over and pulls the boy into his arms. Priam clings to him, bravery cast aside as the owl hoots again and a gust of wind draws the tree branches against the roof of the house. He’s carried to his parents’ bed and laid in the middle of the mattress. His eyes are already drifting shut as Soren lays down beside him._

_His father had woken up as soon as Soren had moved. Little Priam doesn’t know why this is, but he knows that any slight movement or noise in the house will wake both of his parents from a sound sleep. He doesn’t know that they have been trained this way through years of war and travel. All he knows is his father’s solid presence on one side, and his mother’s cool hand stroking through his hair. He breathes in their scent, the scent of home and safety, and snuggles into the blankets as his eyes finally close. The gentle murmur of his parents’ conversation fades in his ears, until all that’s left is contentment._

>>><<<

It wasn’t a nightmare that woke him, but rather a vivid memory. Lying awake in his tent, Priam wished that he could recall the vague nightmares of his childhood. Dreams of past battles, of his parents’ deaths, were too real. He sat up, his hands shaking as he brushed the hair out of his eyes. Judging by the position of the moon, it was only about 2 am; he hadn’t been asleep for very long.

On any normal night, he would simply push these uncertain feelings down. He would get out of his bedroll and numb his fear and grief through training. But when he emerged from his tent, his hand on Ragnell’s hilt, something stalled him. A nagging feeling in the back of his mind sent signals to his legs, and soon he found himself walking without really thinking about it.

The camp was in total silence, save for those who had been put on patrol. Gerome gave him a wary glance as he passed, but Priam was too wrapped up in himself to care. Some base instinct was guiding his steps. He ignored the humidity that caused his shirt to stick to his back, and he didn’t notice as crickets jumped out of his way. He loped steadily along the rows and rows of tents, until he came to the one that he sought.

He only intended to check on them. He reminded himself of this as he drew aside the tent flap, careful to block any light with his bulky body. A faint sliver of moonlight escaped, falling over the bedrolls and revealing two bodies, one covered and one uncovered. Ike’s quiet snoring brought Priam back to his childhood, and he smiled to himself, relieved. They seemed to be fine.

A very soft, almost unnoticeable red glow caught Priam’s attention. Soren, at least, was awake. “It’s Priam,” the swordsman said softly, hoping to prevent a defensive blast of thunder to the face. He could hear the soft rustle as Soren let his tome slide back to the ground.

“What do you want?” That tone, irritable but tinged with the barest hint of concern, made Priam grin.

“I was just checking on you,” Priam said.

“Making sure that we’re not creating you too early?”

“Heh, no… I don’t know why, really.” He knew very well that his dreams were not reality. He knew that Ike and Soren were safe. And yet…

“Don’t tell me you had a nightmare,” Soren groaned. When Priam remained silent, those red eyes softened just a little. “You were afraid that we might disappear?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Priam shrugged. “I dreamed about coming home to Kemo. To our house, and Dad’s grave, but you were…” For a brief moment, that sickening scent was in his throat again. He shuddered. It had been a long time since he’d thought of that, and now it was like a fresh wound, bleeding uncontrollably.

Soren seemed to understand. His voice was unusually soft as he said, “We can discuss it tomorrow. For now, just rest. Put it out of your mind.”

“File it away for later,” Priam said with a low laugh. At Soren’s startled look, he said, “You always told me that, whenever we didn’t have time to talk about something. Made me think of your accounting work, and how you always kept those papers so neat.”

“That’s right,” Soren said, his tone unreadable and his expression guarded.

“We’re not going anywhere.”

Soren and Priam both started when Ike spoke up. The vanguard hadn’t given any indication that he was awake. “Your parents may be gone, but me and Soren are still here,” he continued. “We’re not gonna die on you so easily.”

“I…” Priam’s voice caught in his throat. “Yeah. I know.”

“Now, do you expect me to tuck you into bed with a cup of warm milk?” Soren’s voice had a teasing edge to it.

“Can I have a bedtime story, too?” Priam countered with a grin.

“Just sleep in here,” Ike mumbled, obviously beginning to drift off again.

“Excuse me?” Soren balked. “He doesn’t want to sleep in here with us, Ike. For the love of Ashera, he’s a grown ma—”

The rest of that sentence was cut off as Priam dropped onto the bedroll between the two, causing Soren to yelp and Ike to grunt as he was jostled awake again. “I don’t mind,” Priam said happily, grabbing Soren around the shoulders and pulling him close like a stuffed animal. The sage growled in indignation, but Ike gave a chuckle and reached over to ruffle Priam’s hair.

“Didn’t expect you to actually do it, but OK,” Ike said.

“You should know that I take everything very literally,” Priam said drowsily. “Blame yourself.”

“Let go of me!” Soren was trying to push against Priam’s chest, but even half-asleep, the warrior was too strong.

“Can’t. You’ll fall out of bed.”

“I swear, I will paralyze you.”

Far from frightening him, the threat only made Priam feel cozier. “’S just like home,” he mumbled, nuzzling the top of Soren’s head. “G’night, Mom. Night, Dad.”

“G’night, son,” Ike muttered.

“Ugh…” Soren gave up fighting and submitted to being cuddled. “I am going to make you eat so many vegetables…”

“Overruled,” Ike said. “That’s cruel and unusual punishment. Just ground him.”

“Priam, if you don’t let me go, you are grounded for a week.”

A snore was the response. Soren groaned. “Ike, he’s sleeping already!”

Another snore, this one from Ike. Soren sighed and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth soothe him in a way that was both familiar and strange. “Impossible…” he mumbled, before giving in to sleep at last.


	3. Spreading the Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a drabble. No real point, just fluff.

Word spread quickly throughout camp. A week after Priam’s revelation to Ike and Soren, he woke up on a cold, crisp morning to find Lucina outside waiting for him. “You’re up awfully late,” she said as he emerged from his tent in a typical state of disarray. “Couldn’t sleep? You look even worse than usual.”

“What do you want?” he grunted, running a hand unconsciously through his hair.

“I want to know why you didn’t tell me sooner,” she said. “About your parents.”

He grimaced at her and turned away to urinate into the bushes. To her credit, she didn’t flinch. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” he said.

“You and I are very similar in that regard,” she said. “I know what it’s like to want to protect your own future… and that of your loved ones.”

“Go away, Lucina,” he said flatly, buttoning his pants back up.

“I don’t know why you’re so hostile. We should be able to talk about this. You and the others… we’re all alike.”

“We are not alike.” Priam adjusted his bandanna on his forehead. “I don’t need your pity. I didn’t have the horrible childhood that the rest of you experienced. We have nothing in common.”

“You still know what it’s like to lose them.”

That stopped him in his tracks. He turned slowly to face her, his expression guarded. She was gazing at him in a way that she never had before; her eyes were gentle, and he didn’t like it one bit. “Let me put it to you plainly,” he said. “I do not want to talk to you about my past. I do not need to explore it. If you want a sparring partner, then feel free to seek me out. If you want to talk about our feelings and cry about our tragic pasts, then go elsewhere. I’m not interested.”

As he walked away down the hill, Lucina called after him. “That isn’t what I want, you imbecile!” He grinned; insults were far more comfortable than words of sympathy. “I was suggesting that you could join our cause with a little more heart than you had before! You might actually commit to joining as a full member of this army.”

He waved his hand in the air. “I’ll think about it!” he called over his shoulder, smirking at the irritated noise she made.

It didn’t occur to him to ask how Lucina had found out, until Soren came striding over to him in camp. Priam greeted him with a nod of his head, only to backpedal immediately when he caught the look on his mother’s face. “We need to talk,” Soren said irritably.

Priam let himself be led to the war planning tent, which was deserted at this hour. Soren closed the flap securely and went to stand across the table from Priam. “Why did you tell everyone that Ike and I are your parents?” The sage didn’t waste any time getting down to business.

“Good morning to you, too,” Priam muttered.

“Priam!”

“I didn’t,” Priam said with a groan. “I haven’t told anyone.”

“Then why are we the talk of the camp?” Soren’s glare was sharp, but it wasn’t really affecting Priam too much. For some reason, he found it funny.

“Sorry,” Priam said, hiding his smile. “This feels very nostalgic to me. Your glare has always frightened me. It’s good to feel that again.”

“Excuse me?” Soren raised an eyebrow at that.

“Heh… Just like old times.”

Soren was now looking at Priam critically. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked after a moment.

“I feel fine,” Priam said.

The sage stepped around the table and walked over to Priam, who watched, confused, as Soren reached up to him. He was so short that he had to stand on his toes in order to reach all the way up to Priam’s forehead. His fingers were cold as they brushed aside his bandana. “I knew it.” Soren’s expression barely changed, but there was a slight furrow to his brow. “You have a fever.”

“What is this, mother’s intuition?” Priam mumbled.

“You have a strange look in your eye. Ike gets the same way whenever he’s ill.” Soren replaced Priam’s bandana and beckoned the taller man to follow him out of the tent. Priam did so without complaint. “Somehow, he’s able to hide it well. Even he can’t tell when a fever sets in, at first. Soon enough, you’ll be dead on your feet. Come on.”

“I feel fine,” Priam repeated stubbornly. And he did, really; the world was just a bit fuzzy looking, now that he really thought about it, but otherwise he was OK.

“Trust me. It’s going to creep up on you. The fever is slight for now, but it will get worse if you don’t treat it.”

Silently, Priam followed Soren to the medical tent. Gerome was there, having his arm tended to by Lissa. “I’ll be right with you!” she said as Soren and Priam entered.

“No need,” Soren said. “It’s just a fever. I’ll deal with him.”

He went to an empty cot in the corner and motioned towards it. Priam sat with a huff. “I don’t need anything. I feel as fit as a stallion in springtime.”

“Who taught you to talk like that?” Soren scoffed as he rummaged through a chest full of potions.

“You used to read to me a lot.”

“Remind me to not do that.” The sage returned to Priam’s side with a blue bottle and a damp cloth. “Take off your armor and lie down.”

“I never remove my armor. Not even to rest.”

Soren rolled his eyes. “I think you’ll be fine. Just do as I say.”

With a scowl, Priam shucked off his armor and let the pieces fall to the reed mat below them. Soren helped him to remove his shirt (why were his fingers so clumsy all of a sudden?). He stretched out on the cot, and Soren covered him with a blanket. It was a bit of a surprise to him; the warmth of the blanket drew his attention to how chilly he was feeling. He hadn’t noticed before.

“Drink this,” Soren said, holding the bottle to his lips. Priam had no choice, so he glared at Soren as he downed the bitter liquid.

“I’m fine,” he said, but Soren waved him off.

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re to stay here until Lissa clears you for duty again.” Soren slid the bandanna from Priam’s head and carefully folded it, setting it aside on top of the chest at the foot of the cot. He replaced it with the cool cloth, feeling Priam’s cheek as he did so and frowning. “You already feel warmer. It’s going to hit hard and fast.”

“Let it,” Priam said with a stifled cough. “I fear no disease.”

“Do you fear me?”

Priam let out a chuckle, which died in his throat as Soren glared at him. He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Generally? I find you intimidating.”

“Then remember that fear and stay in bed.” Soren tucked the blanket up under Priam’s chin. “I’ll return soon to check on you.”

Priam closed his eyes as Soren walked away. He and Lissa were talking, but Priam was already beginning to drift off. It was nice, he thought, to be taken care of again. He’d forgotten what it was like.

>>><<<

Priam’s fever worsened, just as Soren said it would. To compound the situation, the sage garnered knowing glances and sympathetic smiles every time he popped in to check on Priam. “I understand,” Chrom said once. “Lucina was badly wounded a while ago, and I almost had a fit over it. It’s hard to see your child suffer, even under such bizarre circumstances.”

“I hardly see how it’s any of your business,” Soren said curtly before brushing past the prince and into the tent.

When Ike came to see Priam, he had already been in the infirmary for a day and a half, and the fever showed no signs of breaking. “He’s probably been pushing himself too hard,” Lissa explained. “Not enough rest, not enough food, too much training.”

“So, this is what would have happened to me, if you weren’t here…” Ike mused, sitting on the empty cot across from Priam.

“I think you could take care of yourself,” Soren said, though he felt no small amount of pride. He pulled out his pocket tome and muttered the spell to wick away some heat from Priam’s body, concentrating on the cloth over his forehead. Priam’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze bleary and confused.

“Mom…” he mumbled.

“Hey, how do you feel?” Ike asked.

“Dad…” Priam looked over at Ike. “Feel like crap…”

“Lissa says you’re working too hard.”

“Mmph.” Priam turned his face into his pillow, shutting his eyes again.

“You’re useless like this,” Soren said, still dabbing at Priam’s face with the cloth. “You should know by now how to care for yourself.”

“Yeah…”

“How can you consider yourself a strong warrior if you can’t even stay healthy?”

“Soren…” Ike put his hand on Soren’s shoulder, and Soren blinked. He hadn’t realized how… concerned he was for the boy (for the man, he reminded himself; Priam was anything but little).

“Just do as you’re told, and rest,” Soren said, laying aside the cloth.

“You’re worried about him, aren’t you?” Ike said.

“No,” Soren said automatically, though he knew that Ike knew better.

“Me, too,” Ike said.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Soren was looking at Priam’s sleeping face. His slight frown betrayed his worry.

Ike smiled softly at him. “You do look like his parent, though,” he said.

“Hardly,” Soren snorted. “He more strongly resembles you.”

“Not exactly. He has the shape of your eyes, and your pale skin.” Ike looked up at the canvas ceiling. “I never thought about us having kids. I enjoyed helping out with Mist’s, but for us to have one of our own… Seems wild, doesn’t it?”

“Mm. I can scarcely believe it.” Soren frowned. “I just wish I knew who found out…”

Ike shrugged. “Does it really matter?”

“I suppose not, now that the secret is out.”

It was with a sigh of relief that Ike led Soren out of the tent. He wasn’t about to admit that it had been him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you couldn't tell, I kinda ship Priam and Lucina. Blame my bestie for that!
> 
> I think in the next chapter... Soren gets pregnant! Dun dun DUUUNNNN!


End file.
